Written by Little Me: "The Sick Eye"

In elementary school, we had an activity called Squiggle. The teacher would draw a simple shape in each child's notebook and then the child would turn it into a picture. Depending on the children's age and grade, a word, sentence, or whole story was written to go along with the picture.

This Squiggle and story are from May 12, 2000. I was in 2nd grade. I typed the story as it was written so you may notice some misspellings and punctuation omissions.

One day a little boy about one year old ate a big onion. Then his body didn't like it so his eyes poured tears. His mom came to him because she was at the table with the little boy along with the boy's dad. He came also. The mother and father took him to the doctor right then even though they hadn't finished their dinner. He wasn't there so the nurse helped them. There wasn't anyone else at the doctor's office so they went back into room seven and then the nurse asked the parents "What's wrong with your child?" "Well" said the mom "he ate an onion and started to have tears in his eyes. I guess he smelled it, mam." "Well, I guess you'll have to just let all the tears out of his eyes. If tears are still coming out tomorrow morning come back here. Doctor (my last name) will probably be here at about 7:30 or 8:00" said the nurse. The next day the boy's eyes were making tears still. So the parents had to take him to the doctor. Before they did the parents had to write what had happened to their son. At the top of the paper the mother wrote her son's name, Dilin Pickel. Then underneeth she wrote what happened. At the very bottom she sighned her name and Mr. Pickel sighned his. Then they went to Doctor (my last name)'s office. He looked at the paper. Then he gave Dilin a pill and right then the tears stopped! The End

Letters to Me: 15 Years Old

I read the book The Time Traveler's Wife in high school and loved it. The main character is a time traveler and sometimes gets to interact with a younger or older version of himself. What if I could talk to my past or future self? This is the first post in a new series tagged "letters to me".

Dear 15-year-old Sarah,

As you get ready to start your sophomore year at a new school, I want to give you some advice. This school year will start out harder than it will end, so don't get discouraged. You don't think you know many people, but you're wrong. Keep an eye out for your friends from elementary school, because they go to your high school! Get to know them again. They'll be among your best friends for the rest of high school and into your adult years.

Try out for basketball. I know last year was rough being the only freshman on varsity at your old school, but this year will be much better. You'll make new friends and have a great time. Everyone on your team will be a freshman or sophomore, so you'll actually be one of the older players. This won't matter, though, because your coach will be someone who really cares about you and your teammates and won't tolerate bullying or disrespectful behavior. Appreciate him and the other coaches. You'll get frustrated sometimes, but remember to be respectful.

Speaking of respectful, be kind to your teachers. I know it sometimes sucks to be at school all day and to have classes you are required to take, but you are so close to finished. Out of 13 years of required school, you're already done with ten! Enjoy the classes you like and carry a book in your backpack for classes that are boring. Don't be a smart ass to your teachers. Sit in your seat and either pay attention or read something interesting. You'll survive, I promise.

In these last three years, work hard at school. Doing mediocrely in high school will turn out fine in the long run, but if you can get excellent grades, you'll have more options when it's time to apply for college. You're smart and I know you're capable of doing very well, but it's going to require effort. Don't even bother trying to tell yourself you're stupid, because I know better.

Lastly, go to bed early. 7:30 is so early to be in school and I'm really impressed that you're able to make it day in and day out because in college an 8:55 class is considered early! Your life will be better if you get enough sleep. Turn off the computer and go to bed!

Best wishes for a wonderful sophomore year, Sarah! I know you are going to do great.

Yours truly,
22-year-old Sarah

The Barefoot Lunatic

image via https://www.cagle.com/tag/barefoot/

I left my apartment the other night just before 8:00 pm wearing shorts, a t-shirt, my Five Fingers shoes, and a jacket. In my pockets I had my student ID and keys and I held my water bottle and the banana I was eating. I arrived at the gym after a few minutes of walking and began my workout.

Sweaty and tired, I picked up my belongings and headed home. I chose to carry my jacket instead of wear it because, while it was nearly freezing outside, I had just worked out and was plenty warm. I went into my apartment and immediately took off my shoes. Then I realized I was missing my student ID. I checked around my room but soon realized I must have dropped it on my walk home.

I walked out into the cold, barefoot and in the shorts and t-shirt I had just worn to work out. Retracing my steps toward the gym, I kept my gaze on the ground, looking for my card. I walked down the stairs. Nothing. I got to the sidewalk where cars were passing by. Still no card. I crossed the street and was more than halfway to the gym when I saw my card on the ground.

As I picked it up and trotted back to my apartment, freezing all the way, the thought crossed my mind of how weird I must look. It's not every day drivers and passerby get to see a barefoot college student appropriately dressed for a summer day walking along staring intently at the ground on a nearly freezing January evening!

Stabbed by the Thorn in a Pile of Roses

Image via amritham99.files.wordpress.com

At overnight camp when I was a kid and also as a staff member, we sometimes did an activity before bed called Roses and Thorns. Everyone gathered on the floor in their pajamas. We then went around the circle and each girl shared their "rose", a highlight of the day, and their "thorn", something that didn't go very well.

The other day was full of roses for me. I participated in an exciting intellectual conversation in my philosophy class and ran into someone I know who wished me a happy birthday and gave me a hug on my way out of the building. I bought a Subway sandwich for lunch and ate while chatting with a girl who is running a club I am joining.

In my last class of the day, astronomy, the professor was reviewing that an object has to be moving at about 17,000 miles per hour to go into orbit around the earth. He was going along the back rows calling on each person for a question.

"When was the last time you traveled at 17,000 miles per hour?" he asked his next victim. The girl smiled uncomfortably as the professor waited for an answer.

"I don't even know you that well and I know with absolute certainty the last time you traveled 17,000 miles per hour," added the professor. The girl still didn't have an answer. Everyone was waiting.

I looked back at her and our eyes met. "Never," I mouthed to her.

"Never?" she said, still unsure about the answer.

"Right!" The professor was satisfied with her answer and turned his back on us as he walked back up toward the chalkboard.

"Thank you," the girl mouthed to me. I smiled.

Later in the class, a guy asked if the maximum velocity of a rocket is proportionate to radius. The professor told him no, but he seemed confused. I mentioned that I thought he was confusing it with the orbital velocity formula, which does include radius. "Thanks!" he called over to me.

I left astronomy feeling pretty good. Two people had said thank you to me in class! When does that ever happen?

I realized in the middle of the day that I didn't have my water bottle but I knew I had it in philosophy class that morning, so I stopped by that building on my way home. A class was just starting in the classroom when I arrived. I stood in the doorway patiently as the professor talked, waiting for him to acknowledge me.

After a few moments, he looked at me. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if any of you found a green water bottle in here," I said to the class. Students looked around their desk but no one found it. I was about to go when the professor spoke to me. "You think it's worth interrupting my class for a water bottle?!" he sneered, shaking his head.

I was not expecting this. "I'm sorry; have a good afternoon," I said and walked out of the doorway, instantly feeling tears welling up.

I walked over to the dean's office down the hall and asked the secretary if there was a lost and found for the building. "It's usually me," she responded, but said she hadn't seen my water bottle. I absentmindedly peered over the top of her desk to see what was behind. "What, you don't believe me?"

As I walked home, I replayed the past ten minutes in my mind. Was I rude? Was the professor rude? Was the secretary rude? I was embarrassed and offended. And just like that, I let my rose-filled day be shattered by one little thorn.

The Sunday School Hunger Games

image via http://graphics8.nytimes.com

I teach a religious school class of 8 kids in grades 2-4. This past week, I set up a game for them to review some of the Torah characters we have been learning about. I had them split in two teams; boys versus girls was the unanimous choice. Names of Torah characters (Isaac, Joseph, Dinah, Miriam, etc.) were folded up and placed in a little holder. When it was their team's turn, one student came up and picked a name. They then had one minute to use words and/or actions to get their team to guess the name.

During one round, the boy whose turn it was was struggling to describe the character whose name he had picked. All he knew was whether it was a boy or girl. Since his teammate was not doing well, another student on the boys' team yelled out, "Can I volunteer?!" I told him that he couldn't because it was the other student's turn, and we were rotating turns in order. His reply: "But this is the Hunger Games!!!"

Piece by Piece

She used to be an energetic 10-month-old, racing around the house and playing chase in the backyard. She loved walks and chew toys and could catch almost anything thrown her way, from a ball to a kernel of food.

When she was a few years old, she had her top front teeth surgically removed due to infection. That ended the days of fetch in the yard because she could no longer effectively pick up and hold toys in her mouth. My fetch buddy was gone.

I used to take her with her brother on walks around the neighborhood at night. By the time she was eight or so, I was carrying two leashes and a flashlight, which I shined out ahead of her.

Some more years passed. She couldn't walk at night at all anymore, even with the aid of a flashlight. Her canine brother and I walked alone on our usual route. The third member of our walking trio was gone.

She used to run around the dog park, playing happily with the other dogs. As the years wore on, she lost interest in the dog park and eventually the dog park became downright scary because of her failing vision. My dog park pal was gone.

She used to sleep in my room every night, either on my bed or nearby on the floor. Just before her twelfth birthday, she was diagnosed with Cushing's, a condition that, among other symptoms, made her always hot and panting. She was more comfortable sleeping on the cool tile near the kitchen at night. My roommate was gone.

In the weeks and days before her death, Mali was not the dog I had originally fallen in love with. Pieces of her were taken from us each year. In her last weeks and days, she was alive, but she couldn't play fetch, go to the dog park, join us on long walks, or catch things in the air. She didn't sleep in my room anymore and couldn't jump onto the couch or bed. She preferred sleeping most of the day over playing or looking out the window for strangers and cats like she used to. What died that day in March 2013 was not all of Mali, because much of her was already long gone.

Scout, now about 8 years old, had a bad foot when we adopted him at just under a year old. After a surgical procedure a few months after his adoption, his foot became much less painful and he has lived a relatively normal life. Lately though, he can no longer go for walks on the pavement. He can only walk on the dirt in the open space, and I can't safely walk in the open space at night. After seven years of nighttime walks around the neighborhood, my nighttime walking buddy is gone.

Except in the case of sudden death such as a heart attack or car accident, we all go through this process. We're still alive, but we can do fewer and fewer of the things we once loved. We resemble our younger selves less and less. Pieces of our lives are taken from us and our friends and family one by one, until someday the very last piece is gone and we die. It's important that we appreciate every moment we are given, whether walking with our dogs or even just the ability to stand unsupported, because someday these seemingly mundane activities might be taken away forever.

Funny and Cute Kid Quotes 2

Here are the next ten kid quotes from my collection. Check back soon for more!


trying to get the vacuum cleaner to turn on:

me: Is this thing battery powered?

kids (ages 6 & 8): Ya, you just have to plug it in!

Hebrew workbook question: Can you think of a song that includes the word Shalom?

1st grade student response: No.

my dad: That's Sarah's car.

6-year-old: Oh, does your brother have one, too?

me: No.

6-year-old: He doesn't want one?

after getting "shot":

me: Help me!

3-year-old: I don't need help!

me: So your mom signed you up?

8-year-old: Ya, it's official! 

playing kickball:

Child: Who is batting for Bob?

Bob (age 6): I'm batting for Bob!

after finding out that I was alive for the new millennium and for 9/11:

8-year-old: Were you alive for the Titanic, too?

Me: Did you start the pushing?

10-year-old: No.

Me: Then who did?

10-year-old: …me.

At the zoo by a special exhibit displaying real animal fur:

Woman nearby: You can touch animal fur!

7-year-old: Did you hear that? You can touch animal turd!

After walking around the zoo for about an hour:

7-year-old: Whew! That was quite a long journey!

Click here to see part 1 of the kid quotes series.